


Pirates Be as Pirates Do

by misura



Category: Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story (2004)
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest, Ensemble Cast, M/M, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-19
Updated: 2012-07-19
Packaged: 2017-11-10 07:00:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/463502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter gets in touch with his inner pirate. Scurrrvy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pirates Be as Pirates Do

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: _Peter/Steve, so it turns out that Peter had a pirate!kink. Who knew?_ (glitterfics)

It wasn't a big step, of course - baby steps all the way, baby - which wasn't really the La Fleur way at all, but then, this was the new Average Joe's (with _cup_ holders) and a new Peter La Fleur and it was perfectly all right to mix things up a little every now and then, wasn't it?

"Gar, I look good."

The Peter in the mirror grinned back, looking very sexy. Well, mildly sexy.

Well, like a guy who was wearing an eyepatch.

 

"All right, so I'm guessing boats don't actually have doors on them." For an inanimate object, the thing was certainly packing a mean punch. Coming at him from his blind side, too. What had he ever done to that door, was what Peter wanted to know.

"No, that's ships," Owen said. "There's a difference."

"There is?" And okay, that was everything Peter _didn't_ want to know about Fran and Owen's relationship right there. The puppy eyes. The puppy smiling. The 'oh, let's pretend to go look for a dictionary while, in fact, we're just going to look for an empty locker room where we can have our special kind of puppy sex'. It was nauseating.

Pretty cool, too, in a completely uncool sort of way, and hey, if it made them both happy, who was Peter to judge? As long as they kept the noise down, it was all A-OK with him.

"What _happened_ to you?" Dwight stared at him as if he looked like a victim of a car crash or something.

Amazing. "Hey, you think this is bad, you should see the other guy. Car. My car."

"You crashed your car?"

"Drunk eye-patch driving," Steve said knowingly.

"Yeah, so I'm guessing there's not a lot of driving around you need to do at sea, either," Peter said. "And I wasn't drunk, all right? I can do a lot of things while I'm drunk, and I've actually done most of them at least once - twice, if I liked them, but driving isn't one of them. You know why? Because I'm a mature, responsible adult now, and mature, responsible adults don't do that sort of thing. They mooch a ride from a friend's."

"Who was also drunk," Dwight said. "And underage."

"Let's not get hung up on the small stuff, shall we?"

 

Kate would have mocked him mercilessly and then insisted on patching him up (as women did) after he'd manfully insisted the thing wasn't bad enough to go to the hospital (as men did) after which she'd have mocked him some more.

Kate, alas, was in Guam, being happily bisexual-but-very-loyal-to-my-girlfriend-and-what-do-you-mean-I-kissed-you-once-that-was-just-a-happy-victory-well-done-Peter-kiss. Or something. Whatever.

"So I guess you're wondering why I'm wearing an eyepatch," he told Justin, who looked like he was having hot, athletic sex with a cheerleader every night while Peter just got really weird dreams and people (well, a dog) slobbering on his crotch.

"Is it 'talk like a pirate' day? Arr."

All that hot, athletic sex with a cheerleader was clearly messing with his brains. Good thing Peter wasn't getting anything like that. "Why would I be wearing an eyepatch on 'talk like a pirate' day?"

"Oh, good." Justin did something with his legs that - well, good thing he already had a kid underway, was all Peter wanted to think on the subject. Flexible, sure.

Hot, athletic, _flexible_ sex. There was no justice in the world. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Aren't you going to ask why I'm wearing an eyepatch?"

Justin untangled himself. "I thought the deal was that I wouldn't ask your advice about _my_ lovelife and then _you_ wouldn't tell me about yours."

"That's the deal, buddy."

Justin nodded and did the thing with his legs again. "I'm happy for you."

Who wanted hot, athletic sex with a cheerleader every night, anyway? It probably got old pretty fast. After, say, ten years. Twenty, maybe, if she had a friend.

 

"So tell me, Steve, what is it pirates _do_ , anyway?"

Aside from walking a lot of stairs, apparently, which - fair enough. Ships had stairs on them; it said so in all the movies. Plus, the Stairmaster was a nice machine. Nothing fancy, and no colored buttons to figure out with a manual written in sixteen foreign languages. Just get on and then get on with it.

Very philosophical. "Pirates be sailing the seven seas, looking for buried treasure."

"Well, yes, obviously, but - _all_ the time?"

"Aye," Steve said. "That be the pirate's life."

Peter wondered if there were just a lot of people who were burying chests of money, or if pirates were all just really bad at finding them. Or maybe they just found them and then buried them again? That would work, he supposed. Plus, it would explain why Steve never seemed to have any money.

"So you - what? You've got your own boat?"

Steve looked slightly embarrassed. "Steve be prefering to stay on the dry land."

"Oh. Well, plenty of buried treasure to be found right here, I'm sure. Although, now that I think about it, you can't actually _have_ any buried treasure at sea, right? I mean, where would you bury it? You put it in the water, it's just going to float. All right, cool. So it's treasure hunting all day long, huh?"

Steve looked slightly more embarrassed. "Steve be working a job to be paying his rent. Arr."

"Arr. I hear that a lot," Peter said. "People feel very arr about their jobs. Um, spare time?"

"Joe's be the place for Steve to be," Steve said, more confidently now that they were back on familiar ground.

Peter felt strangely disappointed. "So what you're saying is, you don't really do anything. You're a pirate who doesn't do anything."

"Oh, aye. That be the way of things," Steve said. "It's for fun, Peter. All right? What, you want me to walk around robbing people? That's dangerous, that is."

"All right. I see your point. Sorry I brought it up."

 

The thing was -

The thing was -

"Arr," Peter said, and the Peter in the mirror looked frustrated.

The thing was: so what? It was a _fantasy_ , for Christ's sake. It wasn't supposed to be realistic; it wasn't about what you wanted to _be_. It was about what you wanted to be if fantasies were real, but they weren't; even _Steve_ knew that, and Peter probably sucked something awful for making him break character, even if hey, he'd already done his worst once, so why not go for a repeat performance? That was the La Fleur way, all right.

Never say die. Unless you're 100% completely sure Lance Armstrong is safely out of the country.

 

"Gar, Peter," Steve said, and that was satisfaction, right there, nice and warm and nothing to do with the dog, who should be back home and definitely couldn't have followed him all the way here to - "Bad dog, Crash!"

"Gar, Steve."

"Is _today_ 'talk like a pirate' day?" Justin asked.

Owen snorted. "Do _you_ see anyone who looks like a pirate?"

"Please," Fran said. "What is this 'talk like a pirate' day?"

"No, today is not 'talk like a pirate' day," Peter said. "You know why? Because _every_ day is 'talk like a pirate' day." Gordon opened his mouth. " _If_ that's what you want it to be."

"O-kay," Dwight said. "Fresh towel, anyone? Water?"

"Now, I may never going to be sailing on a boat - "

"Ship."

"Yes, thank you, Gordon. Now, I may never going to be sailing on a ship, looking for buried treasure. And I'm probably never going to swash my buckle or buckle my swash, if only because I haven't got the foggiest what that is, but you know what? _It doesn't matter._ "

"What Peter's saying is, he's gay, and he and Steve are eloping to get married."

"Scurrrvy!"

"Gar!"

Justin blinked. "Can't you get married right here?"

"I'm not gay," Peter said, because, well, he wasn't. Pirates turned him on, that was all. For some guys it was tits; for him, apparently, pirates. All good, clean fun.

"He's bi-sex-u-al."

"Oh, snap!"

"I wonder if I'd kissed Kate, I'd become bisexual, too," Gordon said, and Peter decided that was quite enough of that, right there; time to step in and restore some order and sanity.

"Gordon, you're married. Why would you want to become bisexual? Justin, yes, we could get married right here, if we wanted to, which we don't right now, given that we're not even dating yet. Steve ... um, hi."

"Ahoy," Steve said.

"You want to maybe hang out sometime after ... after. Grab a movie or something?"

 

[two days later]

"Let's see, there's rum, there's your DVD of _Pirates of the Carribean_ , there's pizza - pirates eat pizza? Never mind, silly question. Of course they do."

"If it be pirates doing it, it be a thing pirates do."

Unassailable logic, right there. "This is pretty great. Is that a real parrot?"


End file.
